


rice candy

by orphan_account



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-04
Updated: 2009-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:00:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smell memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rice candy

Donghae’s father smelled like eighth notes and wistful dreams, could-have-beens and the generational gap.

_He didn’t have to get you to love you_ , his mother says, understanding is not the same as caring, and Donghae believes her, believes everyone will think the same.

 

Jessica smells like sugar and smiles, lazy kisses and smothered giggles, pure love and a ticking clock.

 _We just don’t click_ , she says softly, we don’t get each other, and Donghae’s mouth freezes halfway open in a protest, remembering his mother’s words. He blinks at her, and then agrees, feeling almost relieved. She smiles at him, swings their entwined hands back and forth. _Also, you’re gay_.

 

Kibum smelled like spring rain and ambition.

 

 _What do I smell like_ , Hyukjae asks eagerly, come on, tell me. Donghae hesitates, unsure, but Hyukjae’s smile is guileless and sweet. _Dancer’s sweat_ , he says, _quick beats and easy friendship_. Hyukjae frowns. _You can’t smell like friendship and music_ , he protests heatedly, and Donghae scowls, because you can and he does, so there. _Fine_ , he huffs, _soybean paste, how bout that?_

 

 _Licorice_ , he tells Heechul the first day they meet, _black licorice and cherry chapstick_. Heechul frowns, flaps his arms around and demands another sniff. _I want fame and fortune and beauty Donghae-shi, make it happen_. Donghae sniffs again, laughing, _it doesn’t change, hyung_. Heechul runs around for a week trying different perfumes and shampoos, and by the end of it he’s secured his place as Donghae’s favourite hyung.

 

The week of the accident, Donghae was numb with grief, and all Heechul smelled of was antiseptic and shattered glass.

 

Kyuhyun is calculus and cinnamon, determination and the click of his mouse. Donghae tells him so when he’s in the hospital, and Kyuhyun smiles weakly. _Why cinnamon_ , he asks, hazy from pain medication, and Donghae wipes at his eyes. _Strength_ , he tells the sleeping magnae, _subtle twists and going well with sweet things_.

 

Zhou Mi smells like sweet things.

Fruit salads and jasmine tea, winter fires and root-beer floats. _Really_ , he asks hopefully, trying to ignore the cries of only thirteen, fading in volume but not in number, _jasmine?_ And they laugh, but his smile is wide and beaming again, and Donghae thinks his heart outshines the sun.

 

Once, when they were all celebrating some award or another, Kibum had sat next to him, eyes vague from alcohol. _You smell like dreams_ , he slurs, and Donghae freezes, because no one has ever told him what he smells like, no one has ever tried. _Like rice candy and happy ever after_ , Kibum says, and Donghae falls in love.

 

 _I don’t want to hear it_ , says Donghee glumly, before Donghae can open his mouth, _ramen and failed diets_. Donghae still hasn’t told him self-confidence and shared laughter, a quick-wit and hugs.

 

 _Rosin_ , Henry says when Donghae comes to him with a description, soft pine and warm amber. His voice is faintly disappointed, and Donghae waits until he’s hiding in a corner after a performance of Don’t Don, choking on sorrow, to murmur _hope and talent, young mischief and a sweet friend_.

 

Hankyung is pure vanilla beans and plain yogurt, sweet and good-natured, with a brush of sea salt for his sorrow, far from home and endlessly tired.

After the lawsuit, Donghae can barely detect the cherry on him, fading more every day.

 

Siwon smells like black coffee, strong and steady, and thick blankets, warm in his beliefs and safety. Donghae likes to curl into him when he’s feeling sad, and Siwon will sit for as long as he needs to. Sometimes he’ll sing psalms from the bible, ones he knows Donghae likes, and Eunhyuk will come sit with them, pretending to watch television or read a book.

 

Before his incident, Youngwoon is impulsive action, unconditional loyalty and boxing leather. Donghae goes to talk to him after the company decision, and chokes on bitter fumes and despair, self-loathing and strong alcohol. He helps Jungsoo and Sungmin pour it down the sink, silent solidarity.

 

 _You’re never around anymore,_ he says, and Kibum laughs, pushes at him playfully. _We’re all busy_ , he says, waving the extra controller, _come play with me, Hae_. When he leaves Donghae pulls him into a hug and inhales deeply. It’s still the same, cool water droplets and solid resolve.

 

Ryeowook is a tinkling piano and hummed melodies, damaging empathy and shy smile. _Why didn’t you ask me to cook for you_ , he fusses at them with red eyes, carefully not making fried rice, and Donghae smiles sadly. Ryeowook feels much too strongly, and Donghae knows scents never change.

 

 _If you say pink_ , Sungmin announces, _I will punch you in the teeth_. Sungmin is a contradiction. He is sweet and calm, girly and masculine, cute face and lean muscles, gentle fingers on piano and guitar and bruised knuckles on practice dummies. _You smell like a ninja_ , Donghae decides, and Sungmin beams. _A lesbian one_ , Donghae adds, and flees, laughing loud and happy.

 

Jongwoon is smoke, musical notes from a cigarette, curling up in clouds of different shapes as it wisps for the ceiling, and metaphysical art, strange and odd and maybe incomprehensible, but beautiful and special. _What about Ddangkoma_ , he asks, and Donghae remembers something else he had to do that day.

 

 _Do you remember what I smell like_ , Donghae finally asks, blunt and unable to hide his upset, heart on his sleeve. Kibum is puzzled, but his tone is fond as he tells Donghae to get some sleep, clearly dismissing the question as something frivolous.

 

 _I don’t understand_ , he says, stunned, and Jungsoo makes a shushing noise, tucking the sheets around him, _I don’t understand_. Jungsoo hugs him, sharp mint, fresh and springy and forever young. Sometimes it’s too strong and sometimes you only get a hint, but without it the entire recipe falls apart.

 

Heechul finds him knee deep in his own closet, sniffing deeply at everything he can get his hands on. _Oh fishy_ , he says, _it doesn’t work like that._ Heechul smells faintly of soured vanilla and left-behind cologne.

 

 _Are you going to leave Super Junior_ , Donghae texts, _do you want to leave Super Junior_.

Kibum never responds.

 

Donghae finds an old shirt of Kibum’s at the bottom of Youngwoong’s closet and puts it to his nose, breathing slow and deep and then fast and shallow. All he can smell is Kibum’s career and cold sleet, acting and hurricanes. There’s not the slightest hint of rice candy, and there never was.


End file.
